


Hit Me With The Truth

by AnotherWorld3111



Series: Angels and Demons Verse [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, BAMF Sam Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Secrets revealed?, Vengeful Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 17:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17084591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWorld3111/pseuds/AnotherWorld3111
Summary: Sam and Dean find out a long buried secret, the one thing they'd been after their entire lives... only for Dean to be forcefully taken out of the picture.Sam won't rest anymore until he kills the bastards who destroyed his family. Especially not after they dared to lay a finger on Dean.





	Hit Me With The Truth

**Author's Note:**

> IM BACK!  
> kinda... almost done with the second week out of my three week holiday and i finally got to finish this long awaiting fic.. i told myself i was gonna work on all my unfinished ones, but I'm actually gonna try going for as many works as i can in this series when i can still remember vague details of what i had planned... why do i not have a friggin note or rough draft or whatever for this fic lying around...

Sam couldn’t breathe.

It had taken ages to be able to ditch his guards, and even then, Sam felt like what any other normal high schooler would feel like, sneaking out of their bedroom window way past their bedtime.

But being outside of his curfew wasn’t giving him the thrill or excitement that would be garnered at the prospect of a forbidden adventure.

No, Sam felt like he was a second away from keeling over, his heart failing on him.

The only reason he was able to keep going, keep moving, one foot in front of the other in front of the other in front of the other, was because he still didn’t know, he had to see with his own eyes–

Dean had to be alright. He had to–

He was at the hospital. Heart thudding, Sam snuck in through the vent. The usual lack of space didn’t even register in Sam’s mind, too focused as he was on his destination, and by the time he did, he had to swap his concentration to trying to get his lungs to work.

Which is why when his feet finally met solid ground, it took Sam a solid few seconds before he could tune into the sight in front of him.

His ears rang. His vision whitened. Knees buckling, Sam collapsed to the ground.

There was barely a part of Dean that was actually visible between all those bandages, and even his mouth was only left bare to allow the tube to go through. The only thing keeping Sam’s brother breathing and alive.

Sam gasped, his systems abruptly reviving, enough for him to regain the strength to practically crawl forwards on his knees, closing the distance between him and the hospital bed his brother lay down on. 

Using the bed to help pull him up, Sam desperately clutched Dean’s hands like a lifeline, somehow managing to be careful enough to not mess the IV hooking into his brother’s skin. 

“I swear, De,” Sammy whispered, his voice choked. A tear slipped down his cheek, landing on Dean’s hand in between his own. “I’m gonna get revenge on the person who did this to you.”

Sam grit his teeth, swallowing, and with great difficulty he pushed himself upright, still holding onto his brother’s hand. He bent over his brother, carefully pressing a kiss to the hair that peeked out from under Dean’s bandage. 

“ _ I swear _ .”

* * *

_ “They’re all linked, Sammy!” _

_ Sam frowned, staring blankly at the papers in front of him. He could probably make sense of it, except for the fact that he was tired. And talking to his brother, who would most likely explain it to Sam anyway. “Who’s all what now?” _

_ He could practically see Dean’s eyeroll through the phone. “Michael, Lucifer… and Dad’s murderer. They were all linked. Just like we suspected.” _

_ And just as Dean said, despite their suspicions that had been ongoing for years now, to hear it to be confirmed… it had Sam’s insides go cold, his organs feeling like they’d been caught in a vice-like grip. _

_ “What was it?” He could barely force the words out, and yet, he did, only to hear Dean let out a harsh laugh. In the background, he could hear wheels scratching as Dean undoubtedly overtook yet another car. The third, if Sam wasn’t wrong, throughout the duration of their call. _

_ “They’re fucking brothers, Sammy. Been allotted different parts of the country as to how their daddy wished, except daddy’s precious little children decided to get a little jealous and started eying their sibling’s share. I’m guessing you can figure out the rest.” _

_ This time, it was Sam’s turn to let out a bark of laughter, not a trace of amusement in his voice as he leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his disbelieving face. “Shit.” He breathed out. “And mom and dad got caught in all the crossfiring, didn’t they.” _

_ Dean hummed, Sam’s eye twitching as the horn blared loudly through the line. “Yeah. Because they got stuck with the worst of them all.” _

_ Sam sat straight. His grip tightening on his phone. His entire body tensed.  _

_ “You found out–” _

_ “Yeah.” Dean’s voice was tight. “The third brother.” _

_ Dean barely got the name out, before everything went wrong. _

_ And Sam could only sit there in horror, as he heard his brother being run over by what sounded to be most likely a semi. _

_ The dial tone was like Death’s call in Sam’s ear. _

_ “DEAN!” _

* * *

“It’s been a while,” Sam said carefully. He knew his posture came off as relaxed, yet it was visible to anyone who was watching that Sam would be ready to react at any given second.

He stroked the banister, grimacing when the tip of his finger came away dusty.

Lilith hummed from behind him.

Sam swirled around, head lifting as he watched Lilith descend the stairs dramatically. The silver snake around her shoulders slithered down her outstretched arm, slipping free from her fingers and sliding down the banister by itself.

Sam tucked his hands into his pockets.

“I guess it has,” Lilith crooned, her head tilting as she stepped off the staircase. Stepping closer to Sam had her tilting her head back further, however, in order to be able to maintain eye contact.

Until she started raking her eyes over his body, anyway.

“So what brings Lucifer’s descendant to my lair, after so long?” Lilith said, stepping behind Sam, letting her fingers graze against his shoulders. 

Forcing himself not to react, Sam merely turned his head ever so slightly so to be able to at least keep Lilith within his line of view. “I need some information.” He said, just as Lilith finished circling him, coming to stand in front of him once again.

“Ooh, information.” Lilith purred. “I guess it’s needless to say you’ve come to the right place.” 

Sam scoffed. “Please. Everyone knows that next to Lucifer himself, it’d be his mistress who knows everything. And by that, I mean,  _ everything.”  _ He leaned forward, his voice dropping to his own deadly hiss as he narrowed his eyes at her. 

Though she remained outwardly unfazed, Sam knew his utter confidence oozing out from his entire persona was enough to impress her. She cocked her head, a hand reaching out to be pressed flat against his chest. Even when the silver snake started to slither down her outstretched arm, coming ever so closer to Sam, he didn’t give Lilith the pleasure of reacting. “Go on.” She finally said, after too long of silence. 

“Crowley.” Sam said, his face a steel mask. “Where is he.”

* * *

 

Finding Crowley ended up being a lot easier than shaking Azazel off his tail. Which meant it took Sam a lot longer than he would’ve liked to capture Crowley, and it was all because of his right hand man being far too thorough. Even then, Crowley wasn’t a man who necessarily went for the extra precautions to keeping himself guarded — people in general avoided him when hearing his name alone, and those who dared to go the step further found themselves face to… snout of Crowley’s hounds. Hellhounds, everyone affectionately called them. In the way that meant they were more desperate and suddenly regretful of every decision they’d ever made than affectionate. It was only Crowley who had a soft spot in the black ruins of what doctors called a heart for the hounds. 

The big black dogs drooling at Sam’s feet proved that maybe Sam didn’t mind them either, giving them the rub they asked for from the one they clearly recognized as their superior. 

He wasn’t completely fooled, though. One of these dogs were responsible for the deep gouges in his brother’s comatose body, and the moment he was sure which, they’d see who Sam really was. Mercy wasn’t ever in his mind, even against animals, when it came against Dean. 

“Bloody dogs,” Crowley muttered when he came to, quickly taking in his surroundings. His head bobbed up and down with his disorientation, tilting far to the side in time for him to spit out blood. “Ungrateful traitors.”

Straightening from where he’d been crouched in the middle of a pile of drooling dogs that were more reminiscent of house pets instead of the carnivorous beasts they were supposed to be, Sam neatly stepped over them to stand in front of Crowley. 

Slowly, far too slowly that it could have been for dramatic effects just as much as a possible concussion, Crowley raised his eyes from Sam’s boots until he was looking Sam in the eyes. And proceeded to pale further, though his expression didn’t alter much except for his eyebrows to raise. 

“Bollocks.” Crowley eventually said, his voice low. He swallowed. “Samuel.” 

Sam grinned. He knew the shadows hiding his face would easily play into his favor, leaving Crowley to wonder if Sam was bloodied or not. No one could ever tell which state of him was more dangerous, and frankly, neither could Sam. 

Dean probably would. And would let Sam know with no small amounts of pride either. 

“Fergus.” Predictably, Crowley’s eye twitched, though he didn’t dare to utter anything. “I’ve been informed that you know something I’ve been after.”

Crowley started, disbelief evident in his features. He pointedly glanced behind Sam, at his hounds, to his bound wrists and bloodied self. “And may I ask why we couldn’t exchange information like civilized businessmen? Was violence seriously necessary?”

“Consider it payback. Or maybe a forewarning,” Sam shrugged, careless. Withdrawing a kerchief with a flourish, Sam needlessly wiped at his hands. 

Dean would be rolling his eyes at Sam’s need for theatrics. 

Inhaling sharply, Sam tucked it back in his pocket. “Pick a reason.” Sam grinned darkly. “I’m sure you could come up with something yourself.”

Crowley continued to stare, before abruptly leaning back in his chair, pursing his lips as he glanced around the darkened room. Sam wished he could be able to stay around to watch when Crowley realized he was in his own bedroom. 

“Alright. Information. What can I do for you, Mr. Wesson?” Crowley said diplomatically.

Sam stretched his neck, eyes raised to the ceiling. 

“We all know how Michael is… a pain in the ass, to be honest.” Sam started, pacing around Crowley’s still bound form. “He has no idea what he’s doing, to be honest. His own men are running his business, with him none the wiser.”

Crowley craned his neck, trying to be able to see Sam from behind him. “And you’re telling me this… why?”

“Because I don’t care about Michael.” Sam hissed, suddenly appearing in front of Crowley. He jumped as Sam slammed his hands on the armrests, narrowly missing crushing Crowley’s wrists. “Hell, if I weren’t too busy cleaning up his messes, I wouldn’t even consider him a valuable opponent.”

Swallowing, Crowley slowly leaned backwards in a vain attempt to put as much as distance as he could between himself and Sam. “Right…”

Straightening, Sam fixed his tie, casting Crowley a speculative look.

“Raphael. Tell me everything you know about him, or you’re gonna find out how it feels to be dog chow.”


End file.
